Page 50 of The Heir
Several years ago, the question of pin money for Liza and Jane had been raised. Father had not intended to give them any, but for once, Mother had intervened.
“Let them have it,” she’d sighed. “Otherwise they shall be forever pestering me about dresses and ribbons and slippers, and I couldn’t bear it!”
Of course this was not said when the girls were in the room, but by that point she and Liza had learned exactly where to stand to overhear conversations in any part of the house.
Jane found she spent next to nothing. She saved it instead. And she’d been frankly stunned at the amount she had found in Liza’s desk. Liza was always overrunning her allowance and begging Father for a little extra.
Except now Jane understood that this was another one of Liza’s domestic deceptions. She wondered how many others had gone entirely unnoticed.
Jane held the packet out. Susan eyed it suspiciously.
“What’s that for?”
“Well, I, the baby—” she stammered. She meant to go on about how it came from Liza and that there would be more, but Susan cut her off.
“What baby?” demanded Susan. “Who’s saying there’s a baby?”
Jane felt her eyes bulge. “I . . . Liza said . . .”
“You can tell Miss Conroy thanks very much for her concern, but she can mind her own business from now on.”
“I . . . if it wasn’t . . . then why were you dismissed?”
“Because I broke an entire tea set! Or so I’m told.”
“Then, you didn’t?”
“I never. That was an excuse to get rid of me.”
“But why? I mean, if you weren’t . . .”
“How on earth should I know? They told me I was done, and showed me the door. Was just lucky I had a home to go back to, wasn’t I?” She plucked the packet from Jane’s fingers. “Since your fine sister is in a giving mood, I’ll accept, as I don’t expect Lady Conroy to bother about getting me the wages I’m owed.” She tucked the packet away in her apron pocket and folded her arms again. “Was there anything else you wanted? If not, I’ll thank you to be about your business, so I can be about mine.”
“No, nothing,” said Jane. “Except, well, if you need a character reference, I can write you one.”
Susan’s jaw shifted, as if she was grinding her teeth. Or maybe she was just trying not to laugh.
“Well, I thank you for that. You can see yourself out, I expect?”
“Yes. Thank you, Susan.”
Susan nodded once. Jane took her leave and did not let herself look back.
Chapter 22
It was sometimes easy to forget that Kensington Palace was not the center of the stately world. It was more like a dusty box on a shelf, remembered only when its contents were wanted.
Lehzen had had to leave Kensington quite early so she could complete her errand and be back before the late afternoon, but she did not mind. After the stifling silence of the royal apartments, Lehzen found London’s crowd and noise invigorating. She had not lost her ability to marvel at the green parks and great houses. The royal governess who had traveled across the country in the princess’s retinue might be jaded, but the schoolmaster’s daughter still looked at this great city with wide-eyed amazement.
Her destination today could not be classed as a great or even a stately house. It was a modest private residence in a square that was entirely respectable but not at all fashionable. The door was opened for her by a footman in plain livery, and she was shown at once into a charming little parlor that overlooked a simple, sunny garden.
“Louise!” Frau Schumacher rose and came forward to take both her hands. “How are you, my dear?” she asked in her comforting German.
“I am well, thank you,” replied Lehzen in the same language. “And thank you for allowing me the use of your parlor.”
“Ah, what else are friends for? The tea is being prepared, and I believe we expect Mrs. Wilson soon—” The front door’s bell sounded in the distance. “So. This may be her now.”
The footman opened the door to admit Martha Wilson. In her plain gray dress, with its simple lace collar and cuffs, Martha looked more like a Quaker housewife than one of the queen’s attendants. Which, of course, was the point.
